Explore "The Last Lemurian: A Westralian Romance" by G. Firth Scott on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As I sat on the verandah of the hotel the morning after reading the manuscript that the Hatter, or as I may now call him, Sir Claud, had left me, I was angry with myself; for, in spite of all that I could do, there was only one idea paramount in my mind, and that was to start for England directly a vessel came into the port.
All my life I had rather prided myself upon the sturdy practical view I took of things. When I had met men with curious opinions, as one sometimes does in that land of extraordinary contradictions, the great southern continent--it is folly to term it an island--I had always scoffed at them and twitted them that, for all their theories, it was to beef and mutton that they looked for the mainstay of existence; and beef and mutton it would be for all time.